The Shape of My Heart
by Vegas
Summary: Finally posting my first fic after ghosting for months. Gambit/Rogue. The most angsty X-couple fight to make it work.-*To all the hopeless romantics: I dedicate chapter 9*
1. Prologue and Seven Years

Disclaimer: These aren't my characters. They are the property of Marvel. The author makes no profit from this publication. The author is not liable for injury and/or loss of life as a result of this story's publication. Swim at your own risk, with a buddy. This fic is not tested on animals. Offer void where prohibited.  
  
Author's note: Since this is my first fic, I'm very open to and excited about criticism. And please take the time to read the prologue, even get a hold of the song. It says a lot. Woo hoo!  
  
Prologue:   
He deals the cards as a meditation, and those he plays never suspect,  
He doesn't play for the money he wins, he doesn't play for respect.  
He deals the cards to find the answer, the sacred geometry of chance,  
The hidden law of a probable outcome. The numbers lead a dance.  
  
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier.  
I know that the clubs are weapons of war.  
I know that diamonds mean money for this art,   
But that's not the shape of my heart.  
  
He may play the jack of diamonds,  
He may lay the queen of spades.  
He may conceal a king in his hand,   
While the memory of it fades.  
  
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier.  
I know that the clubs are weapons of war.  
I know that diamonds mean money for this art,   
But that's not the shape of my heart.  
  
And if I told you that I love you,  
You'd maybe think there's something wrong.  
I'm not a man of too many faces,  
The mask I wear is one.  
  
Those who speak know nothing,  
And find out to their cost.  
Like those who curse their luck in too many places.  
And those who fear are lost.  
  
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier.  
I know that the clubs are weapons of war.  
I know that diamonds mean money for this art,   
But that's not the shape of my heart.  
  
- "The Shape of my Heart" by Sting  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: Seven Years   
  
Heat and sweat made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He could feel the waves of lust pulsing forward from inside him. She was beneath him, sighing as he ran his fingers skillfully down her mid-section. She bit down gently on his earlobe, letting a hiss of hot breath escape across his neck as she leaned back. He caught her gaze and felt immediately uncomfortable. She looked at him with a feral hunger. She didn't even know his name. He closed his eyes and rolled over on his back. She responded, pulling herself on top of him. Gambit kept his eyes closed. He willed her features to change. In his mind her eyes became an emerald watercolor, a streak of white hair fell across her face. The woman above him leaned against his chest. He could feel her breasts heave, her thighs flex against him, her lips brush softly against his. "Rogue, chere," he breathed.  
Gambit's eyes flashed open. He realized the mistake as soon as it had passed his lips. She lifted herself off him in surprise. "What did you just say?"   
He stared up at the paneled ceiling. "I called you Rogue," he sighed. Sitting up, he pulled on his jeans and made his way to the bathroom.  
"Who's that?"  
"A girl," he responded curtly. He splashed a handful of cold water across his face.  
"I gathered that," she was annoyed. "What I mean, is how did she end up in here with us?"  
Gambit was staring at his reflection, wondering the same thing. More accurately he was wondering why it couldn't be her instead of the lustful, huffy woman sitting on the bed. What had happened to him? A few years ago things would have gone a lot differently. He felt a sudden loathing for the face in the mirror. This monster that had hurt her, pushed her away. Someone who had commited such terrible crimes that she couldn't love him anymore. And a man who was too weak to stop loving her.   
Without thinking, he smashed the mirror. The glass became a spiderweb, distorting his features. The girl on the bed gasped, pulling the sheets up around her. Gambit looked down at his bloodied knuckled and pulled out a small sliver of glass from the skin. "Merde," he muttered beneath his breath. "What a fool you've become, boy." He turned his attention to the frightened woman in the next room, not knowing just what to say to her.   
"Remy's sorry, petite. Ah thought ah could do dis." She opened her mouth a bit, but closed it again without saying anything. Gambit quietly gathered the rest of his clothes. "Ah'll pay fo' de room on my way out." He opened the door to leave.  
"Hey," he paused and looked in on her. "...Remy...I'm sorry...about whatever it is."   
A soft smile found his lips, " Merci, Angela. Truly." She smiled shyly back at him, and with that he was gone.   
  
  



	2. Waiting

"Still awake I see." Storm raised an eyebrow at the young woman seated at the kitchen table.  
"Hey, Ro. Can't sleep. What are ya doing up?" Rogue watched the slender woman as she plucked a carton of ice cream from the freezer.  
"I had a craving for a snack," she lied. Storm knew that she would find Rogue here. Despite the indifferent attitude she'd displayed when Remy had stormed out earlier, Ororo knew her friend better than that. "Care to join me?"  
"Thanks, sugah." Storm sat down and slid a spoon toward her. Rogue smiled at her. "So what d'ya wanna talk about?"  
Ororo faked a look of surprise, "Who said I wanted to talk? I just came down for a snack." She took a bite, and raised her eyebrows coyly.  
"Ah'm not waiting up fo' him. If that's what you think."  
"What are you waiting up for?"  
"Nothing. Ah jus' can't sleep."  
"And why do you believe that is?"  
Rogue fell silent for a moment. She was waiting up for him, of course, though she really didn't want to admit it. That would mean admitting she wasn't over him, and she wasn't ready to define what else that might mean. "Ah guess ah'm feeling bad about the way ah treated him earlier. Seems like ah'm always coming too hard on 'im. Like ah'm angry at 'im, but ah'm not."  
"You're not?"  
"No, not really. Mad at mahself, ah supose."  
"And what reason do you have to be angry with yourself?"  
Rogue sighed and slid back in her chair. She looked into the face of the woman seated across from her. Ororo thought of Remy as a brother. She hoped that she had come to think of Rogue in the same way, but more likely Storm was angry at her for what she had done in Antarctica. But then again she was here, wasn't she?  
"He tol' me that what happened in Antarctica wasn't mah fault. Tol' me that it was the part o' him ah absorbed. That he'd wanted ta die." Rogue closed her eyes to fight the tears she could feel forming in her throat. The cold words she'd said to him in that frozen hell replayed in her mind, as they did more often than she'd like to recall. "But ah'm not so sure. Ah wish ah could separate his thoughts from mah own in here." She pointed to her temple. "Then ah would know. It scares me to think that ah could do such a thing. That ev'n if it had been the influence of Remy's mind, that part o' me couldn't be strong enough to help him."  
Storm stretched a hand across the table and took Rogue's. The glove she wore blocked the feeling of her skin, but it was still warm and comforting. Rogue suddenly felt embarassed at throwing all her feelings out at once. "Ro, ah'm sorry..."  
"It's okay." Storm met Rogue's gaze and smiled. Rogue smiled back and laughed at herself.  
"What a mess," she said shaking her head.   
Storm was sad for her friends. They both blamed themselves for so much. Both were so unwilling to trust themselves, or each other. If only they could see themselves the way she did, they could start to forgive the past. "Remy's forgiven you. I've forgiven you."  
At this the tears bagan to roll down Rogue's face. She believed her, and was grateful that she had someone who could give her some sort of support. She wanted to rush to Ororo and hug her. She wanted to wrap her arms around her and sob against her shoulder. Storm would understand. She would know how to make this right, but she resisted the urge. She resigned herself to the fact that no one could fix what had been broken between her and Remy. "Thank ya, Ororo. That means so much ta me."   
Ororo squeezed her hand. "Go to sleep, child. All will be well." Storm made this promise, not knowing if it was true. She could only hope that saying it aloud would make it happen.  
"Ah will, sugah, but fo' now ah'm just gonna sit here a bit longer."  
"Alright." Storm rose and put the ice cream back. "Good night, Rogue."  
"G'night, darlin'."  
After Storm had left, Rogue glanced at her watch. It was 3am. Gambit could be home anytime now. Part of her wanted to see him, but the other part just wanted to avoid it. What was she going to say to him anyway? She wasn't even sure what she felt.   



	3. Whatever you say, Gumbo.

It was 3:30 by the time Gambit had parked his bike and punched in all the necessary access codes to get back into the mansion. He was starting to feel a little hungover. His head was spinning a bit, but then again that could have a lot to do with everything that was on his mind.  
  
Gambit knew there was someone in the main living room before he turned the corner. Mutation gave him a hieghtened sense of his surroundings, especially space, and the placement of solid objects. By the feel of the person's size and posture, he guessed it was Logan. His instincts were confirmed as he spotted the glow of a cigar.  
  
"Late night, Gumbo?" Wolverine sat in an armchair. The television flickered across from him, the volume low.  
  
"Hmm...'The Mating Habits of Wolverines'," Gambit commented on Logan's choice of programing. "Sounds stimulating, non?"  
  
Wolverine could smell her on him, whoever she was. That and the distinct aroma of Jack and coke. He eyed the Cajun suspiciously, but decided to let it go. The boy didn't have the smell of sex on him, and Logan wasn't in the mood for a fight. "She's in the kitchen. Been there all night."  
  
"She?" Logan only gave him a look that warned him not to play stupid. "What makes ya think I'm looking for 'er?"  
  
"Whatever you say, Gumbo." Logan turned his attention back to the TV, indicating that their brief conversation was over. Gambit only sighed and slipped out of the room. Wolverine noted that he headed toward the kitchen. A sly smirk found its way to his lips. 


	4. Think...Then speak.

Why was he going into the kitchen? He remembered a story about the siren. The legend said that her song was so captivating that men could not resist it. Sailors would leap from their ships and drown trying to reach the mythical temptress. As he reached the kitchen's swinging door he did not hesitate, but rather entered boldy and headed straight for the fridge.  
  
The bang of the door as it swung in against the wall startled Rogue, who had been dozing. She straightened up and drew a quick breath. "Sorry, chere." Gambit glanced up over the opened refridgerator door. "Didn't notice ya there."  
  
She knew he was lying. He always knew where everyone was in a room as soon as he entered it. It annoyed her that he was already playing games. She noticed his right hand, which was holding the fridge's door open. The knuckles were cut and starting to bruise. "Gambit, what did y'all do ta ya hand?"  
  
Gambit had retrieved a beer from the back of the fridge. He quickly shoved the offending hand into his pocket. He felt stupid for letting her see it. "It's nothin," he shrugged.  
  
"Did ya get in a fight?"  
  
"Heh," he laughed. "Non, chere. Gambit didn't fight any battle t'nite...lest ya count what went on 'tween us."  
  
Rogue cringed a bit at the last comment, but fought against it showing on her face. "Then what the heck did happen?"  
  
"I cut mahself shaving, alright?!" Rogue crossed her arms and averted his gaze. He hadn't meant to get annoyed with her. "Jus' let it go. Please, chere," his voice was soft and pleading. "Ah don't wanna talk 'bout it right now."  
  
Gambit had done his best to make ammends. He'd tried to show her that he was just tired and edgy, and he had his reasons for not wanting to talk. Rogue did not catch the inflection of his voice; the soft tones that he'd meant to say 'I'm sorry.' She remained with her arms stubbornly crossed. "Fine then. Why don't we talk 'bout what you did on yer lil' night out?"  
  
Her voice was bitter and provoking. She was baiting a hook and it enfuriated him. If she wanted to know where he'd run off to, then he certainly wasn't going to with hold the truth. "Well, to start I t'ought I'd getta lil' hammered. And den I spent a lovely evenin' with a femme by the name... huh... oh yeah...Angela."  
  
Rogue felt her heart flutter weakly in her chest. She looked at his dishevled hair, clothes that were haphazardly arranged, and a flushed, pink bite mark on his neck. She'd finally done it. She'd finally pushed him too far, and now he was going to find someone who could give him what she never could. He wouldn't love her anymore. Her green eyes flashed with tears. "How could you...?" She struggled to find her voice, "So what? Ah can't give ya what ya need, so you go out and fin' some lil' tramp who can...? and ya'd throw everything away we..?"  
  
"The last ah checked, dere ain't no 'we' that includes de two o' us. And if I recall dat's at your reguest." Rogue's reaction just made him more angry. Wasn't it just like her put everything on him? "And your perfectly capable of givin me all dat I need... you jus' won't. Don't worry though, Gambit won't bring de femme round here...hang on 'er arm, just to let ya know how well ah'm gettin along without ya."   
  
He stared at her defiantly. Daring her to respond. Rogue dug her fingers into the arm of her chair. "That's not fair," she seethed.  
  
"And what is it dat you t'ink's fair, petite? I supose dat it was fair for me to watch you hangin all ov'r dat villian after Seattle? And it was only just dat you fo'give Joseph all his sins, and none o' mine?! What da ya want, Rogue? You want dat I watch ya smile at every man but me?!" Gambit placed both hands on the table and leaned in toward her. His eyes glowed with the passion of his outburst. Despite the strength she possessed, Rogue felt intimidated, maybe even a little frightened. Her eyes glittered like a little girl's. He stared at her for a few moments, and then spoke softly, "Oui. Bet you'd like dat. Ta watch me pine my life away after somet'ing you know ain't never gonna happen."  
  
Moments that seemed like hours passed as they stared at each other. Both were breathing a little more quickly, shaking slightly with rage. They could here their own heartbeats pounding in their ears. Neither knew what to say. Neither was willing to back down.  
  
It was the beep of Rogue's com-badge, and Scott's voice, that finally broke the silence. "Rogue." They both jumped a bit at the noise. Scott impatiently beeped in again, "Rogue, you there?"  
  
She didn't break Gambit's gaze as she reached to activate it. "Yeah, Cyke. Ah'm here."  
  
"I need you in the war room. I can't find Gambit, so we'll have to do this without..."  
  
"We're comin'."  
  
"Oh...he's there?" Scott was a bit startled by her harsh tone. "Well then, you've both got ten minutes to change into your uniforms before I'll expect to see you."  
  
"Gotchya." Rogue stood with as much dignity as she could muster, walking past Gambit without giving him a second look.  
  
He had calmed down a bit, and was already kicking himself for the things he'd said. He put a hand on her shoulder as she walked past, and started to apologize, "Chere...I..."  
  
She violently shrugged off his hand, and glared at him over her shoulder. He was taken back by the venom in her eyes. "You'd betta go and get changed, LeBeau," she spat. "'Cause personally, ah can't stand ta look at ya."   
  
She stormed out of the room without another word, leaving him alone with a fresh set of regrets. 


	5. Old Scars, Fresh Wounds

Author's Note: At the advisement of a well-respected advisor, I've decided to make my chapters longer. So I hope y'all like this big, tasty chunk. I believe that including this chapter there should be five more, for a total of 9. Which is a good number if you're not a fan of 8 or 10. I'll try to get 'em up as soon as possible. (I know the pain of suspense). Thanks! Okay….gonna stop rambling now….onto the action!   
  
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Chapter 5 - "Old Scars, Fresh Wounds"  
  
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Gambit was already leaning against the East wall of the war room when Rogue arrived. He looked up at her as she entered. Rogue refused to meet his gaze. She quickly took a seat next to Bobby. Bobby noticed the scowl on her face, and the way she had blatantly ignored Gambit sent shivers up even his spine. "Hey, Rogue, everything okay?"  
  
"Yeah, sugah," she put on her best smile, "Ah'm jus' tired is all. How d'ya like getting' dragged outa bed ta the war room at four in th' mornin'?"  
  
"Tell me about it," Bobby yawned for emphasis. "All I know is this had better be good. I'm gonna get a cup of coffee. You want?"  
  
"Thank ya, Bobby. That'd be nice." With the Iceman pacified, Rogue turned her attention to the other X-folk in the room. Almost everyone was there, she noted; everyone except for Hank who had begged another ten minutes to finish an "important experiment." Scott stood at the front of the room, checking his watch every now and again, and looking fairly annoyed. Across the table Betsy and Warren were talking quietly between themselves; as were Ororo and Logan, she noticed with a bit of surprise.  
  
Eventually there was nowhere else to look but in the direction her eyes had been pulling all along. Remy was standing in the same spot. Though there were plenty of empty chairs, he seemed more than content to lean against the wall. His eyes were closed, and his expression was soft. Rogue wondered if he was even awake. The thought annoyed her. How could he possibly sleep after what just happened? But she quelled the feeling. Being pissed off all the time was getting old. Instead she tried to think about the fight from an objective perspective. He hadn't meant to get that angry, she realized. Maybe she should give in, let him make amends.  
  
As if he could feel her stare, Remy opened his eyes and met Rogue's gaze across the room. A few strands of unkempt hair found their way across his eyes. She wondered how red on black could be so tender. Was that the way he'd looked at her? Rogue felt her stomach knot at the thought. He'd been with someone else tonight. In her mind she could see them tangled together. Her name was Angela. She had met a man in a bar, and in that one night had gotten closer to him than Rogue herself could ever dare to hope. There was someone else out there that knew the taste of his lips, and the warmth of his skin. Another person that wasn't her.   
  
"Rogue, you sure you're alright?" Bobby startled her as he put down two coffee mugs. "You're as white as a sheet."  
  
"No really, Bobby…," she could hear her voice waver, and took a breath to even it out, "Ah'm fine."  
  
Bobby eyed her skeptically. He glanced in Remy's direction. He had reassumed his sleeplike posture. "If you say so, Rogue," he said, deciding to let it go. "I didn't know how you take your coffee so I just left it black."  
  
"That's jus' the way ah like it, hun." She was glad that Bobby had broken her thoughts. Whatever it was that Scott had to say, it was undoubtedly important. She had to cool her composure and focus on the task at hand. If she didn't it meant that she, or someone that she cared about, could get hurt. The Cajun looked cool as a glass of sweet tea. Why shouldn't she?  
  
Finally Beast swaggered into the war room, looking quite pleased with himself. He ignored Scott's impatient glare and took the seat next to Rogue. "Hey, Hank."  
  
"And a good evening, or shall I say morning, to you, my dear." Rogue smiled brightly into his fuzzy blue face. Sometimes Beast's work made him so excited that it was positively contagious, and she was grateful for the levity.  
  
At the front of the room Scott cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to what he was about to say. "You're all here because we've recently gotten some significant information, and I want to act as soon as possible. There's a building in the city that we've learned is serving as a laboratory. Someone is holding children there. Younger kids whose powers haven't surfaced yet. Children of parents who are both mutants."  
  
"For what purpose, Scott?" Storm questioned.  
  
"We're not completely sure, but the Professor seems to think they are trying to find a way to 'cure' their mutations before they fully develop."  
  
"I see," she commented. "So I'd assume that it was the Professor who told you of this situation?"  
  
"So who's responsible?" Bobby piped up.  
  
"Yes, the Professor alerted me, but neither of us is sure who's behind it. All we know is that the kids there are being held against their will, and I don't think their parents know where they are. That's assuming their parents are still alive."  
  
"So we got some hostile f*ckers on our hands, huh?"  
  
Scott scowled a bit at Wolverine's omnipresent lack of tact. "So it would appear. And we all know that the 'scientific' methods of such individuals are not often humane."  
  
"Those poor chil'ren." Rogue's problems suddenly seemed pale in comparison.  
  
"Now that you all know what the situation is, I think we should head to the Blackbird. I want to get out there before it gets any later. I'll fill you all in on the details, and your specific assignments, on the way there."   
  
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The laboratory turned out to be a slaughterhouse that had been shut down early in the twentieth century. The first team had entered cautiously. Hank had found a way to neutralize the alarm systems remotely, but the rest of the security provisions remained intact. The upper level of the building was dark and smelled of decay. Rusted metal hooks hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly as the rotting floorboards heaved beneath their feet.   
  
It was Wolverine who'd found the entrance, hidden beneath the floor. At the bottom of the steps they found a solid metal door with an advanced electronic locking system. Gambit had quickly and quietly eliminated the obstacle, allowing them access to the massive complex.  
  
The rest of the X-Men followed soon after, making it their priority to find any living threats and get as much information out of them as possible. As for Gambit, he now found himself apart from the group. He was looking for those kids, relying on instinct to tell him where they might be held.  
  
The complex was huge, with a very sophisticated security system, he noted. It went down into the earth, floor after floor. The labyrinth held enough tricks to keep the X-Man on his toes. Stepping on the wrong floor tile could cause a small explosion, or a puff of noxious gas to be released. Security cameras watched his every move, and let whoever was running this joint know just where he was. Even if he took out the cameras, there were still motion detectors. Triggering them released a small army of robotic aggressors, which Remy had learned the hard way. Still, he'd never met the security system that could handle him. Even the mansion's security wasn't so much that he couldn't get around it if he needed to. As long as he stayed focused he would be fine.  
  
It was that focusing thing that kept giving him problems. He was still thinking about how stupid he'd been, and how he was ever gonna get her to forgive him. Forget forgiving, he'd be lucky if she ever spoke to him again. It seemed that Rogue had grown immune to the charm that often got him out of these types of situations. If only he hadn't mentioned the girl! Why did he do that? Now Rogue thought he'd slept with her, and he couldn't very well take it back. "Non, chere," he muttered to himself, "I didn't sleep wit de femme. Jus' said dat ta piss ya off."  
  
'Whoosh!' A long metal dart flew just past his ear, sticking into the metal wall behind him. Gambit froze. "Merde…where de hell am I? De Temple o' Doom?" He refocused his attention to the task at hand. Acting like that he was going to get himself killed.  
  
He moved through the halls with the stealth of a panther, and the grace of a snowflake. That's what comes of being a master thief, not to mention an exceptionally agile mutant. He didn't really know where he was going. He just trusted in his senses. Eventually he came upon a large, secured sliding door. Gambit was now three floors below ground level. "And here we are," he breathed. The door was solid. Probably constructed of adamantium. He quickly sized up the lock. It was a keypad that required a digital access card. Nothing he couldn't handle with ease. He slipped a blank, plastic card into the lock and gave it a small charge. Perfect, it was just enough to short out the locking system. Now for the door itself: a charged playing card, placed at just the right spot between the panels, was enough to force them apart.  
  
Entering the room, Gambit was not prepared for what he saw. It was a long hall with high ceilings. Lining both sides were dozens of individual cells. Everything was colored in a sanitary, stark white. It glared against the bright overhead lights, causing Gambit to shield his sensitive eyes. Instead of bars there were thick panels of specially coated glass, practically impossible to break. Within each cell dwelled a child, ranging from toddlers to about twelve-years-old.   
  
"Holy…," Gambit stood frozen in place. His voice shook as he absorbed the horrific scene. "Dere must be at least fifty of dese pups." At the sight of Remy, several of the children ran to the glass, pounding and screaming for him to help them.   
  
Without a second thought he moved toward the center of the room where the main control panel stood. It was complex, but with a little time he should able to disengage the cell doors. He could feel the sweat gathering at the back of his neck as he worked. To his right a little girl yelled out to him, "Get me out of here!"   
  
Her scream was desperate. She was sobbing uncontrollably. He noticed sadly that she couldn't be older than eleven. Pausing for a moment he kneeled in front of the cell. "Shhh," he hushed her softly. "Don't worry, petite. Ah'll get ya out of here. I promise."   
  
Her body shook as she caught her breath. "Just hurry…please." Gambit gave her the most reassuring smile he could, and returned to the control panel. He moved quickly through the programs, looking for the key that would release her.  
  
There was no way for him to know what was happening upstairs.  
  
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Yet Another Author's Note: I thought about ending the chapter here…but I couldn't do that to you guys :) Thank me later. Onward ho!!!!!!  
  
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Cyclops dodged a large robotic adversary. It was twice as tall as he was, and damn fast! He barely avoided another attack.  
  
"Quit screwin' around, one-eye!" Wolverine thundered behind him as he took out a similar foe. "I got the smell of somethin' human."  
  
Cyclops took the robot's 'head' cleanly off with a powerful blast. "I'm right with you, Logan." He followed Wolverine's form as it quickly rounded a corner.  
  
"Heads up!" Wolverine dodged a laser blast that flew past him, and nearly hit Scott. The offender was a middle-aged man, desperately fleeing their pursuit. "You son of a…," Wolverine chased after him. Scott followed on his heels, still a bit shaken by the close call.  
  
When they caught up with the man, he had locked himself in a booth with thick glass walls. He was doing something at a control panel. Wolverine lunged at the door, thrashing away wildly with his claws. Suddenly he was pulled aside. The blast of a gun hit the door.   
  
"Thanks, Ro," he nodded to the white-haired woman who had saved him. "I knew there was another one in here."  
  
The 'other one' that he referred to was a second man, similarly draped in a white lab coat like his counterpart within the booth. Beast stepped from the shadows behind him, and quickly relieved him of his weapon. "Not the best idea, my friend," he commented, shaking his finger disapprovingly.  
  
As Logan returned to the task of breaking into the booth, Cyclops confronted the man Beast held in the air. "What is he doing in there?" he demanded.  
  
The man smiled vaguely. "Destroying evidence." Immediately after this cryptic reply, the man began to seize. Surprised, Hank laid him on the floor. Within moments he was dead.  
  
"Strange…" Beast inspected the corpse, and found the remnants of a small plastic capsule between his cheek and teeth. "Cyanide," he concluded.  
  
Scott furrowed his brow and looked up at Hank. "What did he mean, 'Destroying….?" His eyes went wide with the realization. "Logan, Storm! Get down!"  
  
Responding to the warning, the X-Men leapt for cover. The four huddled behind a corner. Wolverine was starting to get annoyed that Scott had flown off the handle, when…  
  
'BOOM'  
  
The building shook as the explosion scattered the booth in all directions. "Sh*t!" raged Logan, covering his head. Soon they could here explosions resounding throughout the complex.  
  
"Umm…fearless leader? I believe that it's time we make a hasty departure," noted Beast, "I believe our adversary set off some sort of self-destruction sequence."  
  
"X-Men! Get out of the building!" He shouted the command into his com-badge over the thunder of the explosions.   
  
Racing to the exit, Storm and Rogue all but ran into each other. "Ro, what's goin' on?"  
  
"The complex is self-terminating, Rogue. We all have to get out of here!"  
  
"Where's Remy? He ain't respondin' to his badge."  
  
"He was in the lower levels looking for the children, but I'm sure he's on his way out." Storm grabbed Rogue's forearm, "We've got to move, now!"   
  
Another blast rocked the complex and the two women were tossed aside. "Rogue?!" Storm searched for her teammate, but did not see her.   
  
In the next room, Wolverine heard Ororo's voice. In a full sprint he burst into the room, effortlessly scooping the woman into his arms. "Time to go, darlin'."   
  
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Gambit clenched his jaw in frustration. This was taking a lot longer than he'd hoped. Maybe longer than it should. He felt the pressure of the little girl's eyes burning into him as he worked. 'Hurry,' they seemed to whisper.   
  
"Jus' a few more minutes," he begged.   
  
But he didn't have a few more minutes. The sound began as a low rumble in the ceiling. It moved down the walls and behind the cells. Gambit looked up from the control monitor. He knew what the noise was a moment before it was born.  
  
With a furious crash the detonation tore through the cells. The glass doors shattered out with its force. If he hadn't been behind the control panel, the flying shards would have torn Gambit to shreds. He leapt over the booth and tried to get to one of the cells. Smoke and flame clouded his view. Coughing, he covered his face with a sleeve.  
  
'No!' his mind screamed in disbelief. "Dis ain't happenin'.'  
  
Rogue appeared at his side and tried to pull him away from the fire, but he was oblivious. "Gambit! We gotta go! NOW, Cajun!"  
  
"Get off me!" he shouted back, shaking himself from her grasp. "I ain't leavin' dem."  
  
"They're dead!" she shouted through her sobs. He stared at her incredulously. She spoke to him softly, "They're dead, Remy. And ah ain't leavin' ya… Not again."  
  
He looked into her eyes. They held an iron determination that was hard to resist. She was right. Weakly, he allowed himself to be taken.  
  
  
  



	6. Letting Go

It had been a month since the slaughterhouse disaster. The mission was generally considered as a complete failure. By the time fire and rescue teams had arrived, the entire complex had been incinerated. A search of the premises the next day only revealed that the man in the lab coat had done a good job of 'destroying evidence.' There were no clues, and no survivors.  
  
The defeat hit the X-Men hard, who all felt responsible in some way. If only Logan had caught the guy before he made it to the booth. If only Scott hadn't been so hasty to move in. If only Hank had somehow known about the self-destruction program. They all found a way to feel guilty. Upon returning, Rogue had gone straight up to her room. She stayed there for twenty-six full hours, refusing to speak with anyone.  
  
The only good thing that could be said (which the Professor made a point of illuminating) was that none of the X-Men had been seriously injured. Gambit and Rogue were the last out. Just as several team members were preparing to go back in after them, Rogue appeared from the cloud of scattering debris. She carried the fallen Cajun in tow. Remy spent a few days in the med-lab, suffering from smoke inhalation and minor cuts and bruises.  
  
Though the physical damage was not great, the damage to his psyche was more than anyone had expected. The Professor had asked him for a detailed account of what he had seen; hoping in vain that it might provide some clues to whom was responsible. Gambit had related the events that had occurred in the holding chamber in unemotional flat tones. The children. Their pleas for help. The sanitary white consumed in the inferno. Xavier noted the pallor of his complexion and the flatness of his normally vivid red eyes.   
  
Remy was off. No one could quite explain what it was. He had no witty remarks to offer. No embarrassing stories about teammates to report. He no longer flashed that characteristic grin at every opportunity. He began to spend marathon sessions in the danger room. He fought for hours at a time, pushing himself to the point of physical and mental exhaustion, until Cyclops was obliged to limit him to only scheduled danger room training. His emotions were so raw that it was becoming difficult for any of the resident telepaths to be in the same room as he was. It seemed he either wouldn't, or couldn't, put up the psi-walls that normally shielded his mind. Betsy and Jean were startled from sleep on more than one occasion, caught up in one of Gambit's nightmares.  
  
It was after one such episode that Jean contacted Storm telepathically, *He had that dream again.*   
  
*Where is he now?*  
  
*He's awake... on the roof.*  
  
*Thank you, Jean. I believe it's time I try and talk with him.*  
  
*You're welcome... and Ro?*  
  
*Yes, Jean?*  
  
*Good luck.*  
  
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Storm found Gambit right where Jean had said he would be. He sat with his wrists resting lightly on his knees. He stared off into space, barely noticing her approach until she landed next to him. His expression gave no clue to his mood, and though they were good friends, Storm worried that he might not be willing to talk.  
  
"Evenin', Ro." Storm was a bit disquieted that he didn't refer to her as 'Stormy'. It was a term of endearment that most often annoyed her, but now that he didn't say it, she found she missed it. "What brings ya out here in da middle of da night?"  
  
"Actually, I was looking for you."  
  
"Right to business, neh?" he scoffed. "Well, I was jus' havin' a smoke, so dere ain't no reason ta worry yo'self."   
  
Storm glanced at the smoke in question. A cigarette dangled from his long fingers. It looked like he hadn't touched it since it was lit, as was apparent by the long stem of ash reaching down to the filter. "Are you certain that it is you who is having the 'smoke,' and not the other way around?"   
  
Gambit looked down at the wasted cigarette and laughed as he tossed it away. "Is dere anyway I can get out o' dis conversation?"  
  
Storm smiled as his mood seemed to lighten. "Not likely, my friend."  
  
"So what do ah need ta tell ya fo' you'll leave Remy alone?" Though his words were mocking, she knew that they held some truth. Remy never was one to talk things out.  
  
"You could start by telling me about that nightmare you keep having."  
  
"Why don't you jus' ask Jean, or Betsy? De been havin' it wit' me."  
  
"They just get flashes of the emotions behind the dream, not the actual images. Besides, I'd rather hear about it from you." He hesitated, looking down and absently turning a silver lighter in his hands. "Remy... you know that you can trust me?"  
  
"Yes." He didn't look up.  
  
"And you know that I love you?"  
  
"Yes." He caught her gaze for the first time in the conversation. "Love ya too, Stormy." She smiled at the endearment. "Jus' dat I ain't ready."  
  
"I've got time." She smiled wryly.  
  
"You're a pain in my ass, ya know dat?"  
  
"I try."  
  
Sighing, he finally relented, "In da dream I'm back in de Morlock tunnels."  
  
"You still blame yourself for that?"  
  
"Oui, I s'pose so." He looked away again, attempting to mask the pain of the memory. "Dere were jus' so many t'ings 'bout it dat were de same. De kids. De fire. An' I couldn't do not'ing ta stop it."   
  
"Remy..." She moved closer and brushed the hair from his eyes in a maternal gesture. "What happened wasn't your fault."  
  
"Which, chere? De slaughterhouse o' de Morlocks?"  
  
"I don't blame you for either, Remy."  
  
He only gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. Still refusing to look at her, he confessed, "Dere was dis lil' girl dere. A little girl wit' blond hair and brown eyes." Storm could tell he was fighting tears. She also knew he would never allow those tears to fall. "She begged me ta take her out o' dere. An' I promised her...."  
  
Storm hushed him, knowing that he'd reached his breaking point. She pulled him into her arms. He did not resist, nor did he return the embrace. He simply allowed her to hold him. "You have so much pain locked inside you, my friend. Someday you will have to let it out."  
  
"I know, Stormy." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Dat day jus' isn't today."  
  
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Gasping, sweating, shaking, Gambit lurched forward in his bed. He glanced at the red glow of the clock to orientate himself. It had been several hours since he'd spoken with Storm on the roof. He ran his hand through his hair. It was soaked with sweat, as were his sheets. He tried to shake himself of the memory of the dream, but it hung over his shoulder like a ghost. He realized he was still shaking, and for the first time since the slaughterhouse, he was truly scared.  
  
Relenting to what his heart told him was right, he succumbed to the urge he'd had since the first time he'd had the nightmare. Though he was already too warm for comfort, he rose from the bed and pulled a turtleneck sweater over his head. He also put on a long pair of dorm pants, socks, and gloves. Gliding quietly down the hall, he came to Rogue's door and gently pushed it open.  
  
Rogue had been lying in bed awake. She had tossed and turned, finally resting on her side, facing away from the door. When she heard it being nudged open she knew who had come to call on her, and inexplicably, why he was here.  
  
Remy crawled quietly into the bed. He laid on his side, curling his body to match her contours, but not daring to touch her. She did not say a word, but wriggled her body against his. When he wrapped his arm around her waste, she took his had and squeezed it gently. *Ah'm here, sugah,* she said silently. He buried his face between her shoulder blades. Through her cotton nightgown she could feel his breath as it cooled and warmed her skin with the rise and fall of his chest. *Ah'm here.*   



	7. Empathy

Author's Note: Please forgive the liberty I took in defining "empathy." I felt it was necessary in developing the plot, and hopefully it's fairly believable. I realize that when defining the super powers of fictional comic heroes, it is vital to remain true to life. I hope everyone is enjoying this little adventure. Please review and let me know. As I write new chapters I constantly check to see if any new reviews have been posted. Slightly obsessive, I know, but it really helps to motivate my progress. The positive feedback I've gotten has been very encouraging, seeing as I look up to a lot of you folks. (Check out my profile: a lot of y'all are posted in my favorites). * tears come to my eyes * You's guys is my heroes!!!!! Thanks again ~ Vegas  
  
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Chapter 7: "Empathy"  
  
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"Jean?" She looked up from her book to see the green-eyed young woman who'd spoken her name. Rogue looked slightly apprehensive. She wrung her gloved hands nervously.  
  
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" She set the book and started to stand, but Rogue stopped her.  
  
"It ain't nothin' really." She sat next to Jean on the ornate garden bench. "It's jus' that ah was hopin' ta talk to ya 'bout somethin'."  
  
"Sure, Rogue. What's going on?"  
  
"Well, this may sound foolish," Rogue started, seemingly searching for the right words, "but ah was wond'ring if ya could explain what empathy is ta me. Not like the literal definition o' anythin'... but what it means to have empathy as part o' ya mutation."  
  
Jean was a bit surprised by the question, but she answered it as best she could. "Okay. Having empathy as part of your powers means that you feel what other people feel. Not just sympathy, but actually experiencing their emotions as if it were happening to you."  
  
"How is that diff'rent from ya powers?"  
  
"Well, as a telepath I can read other people's thoughts and feelings, and since it's a mind to mind connection I can sympathize strongly with what they're feeling...but that's not the same as truly empathizing."  
  
"How close d'ya have ta be ta someone for th' empathy thing ta work?"  
  
"It's different for individual mutants. Some empaths work through touch, some when they look at someone. Some can even empathize with people who are miles away, but normally that only works if they have a particular connection with the person. Still I've heard of empaths who could do it all, with strangers, even if they only have a name." Rogue listened intently, furrowing her brow and gazing at a row of foxgloves thoughtfully. Curious, Jean asked, "Why do you want to know about all this?"  
  
Rogue answered the question with another. "D'ya think Remy might be an empath?"  
  
"I've had my suspicions, why?"   
  
"Remy came ta mah room las' night, and ah knew he was comin' before he ev'n got there. Ev'n stranger, ah saw that nightmare he keeps havin' as if ah was havin' it mahself. But at th' same time, ah knew it was his dream, and not mine! Then when he got in th' bed with me, ah could feel all th' pain he was goin' through like ah was goin' through it too."  
  
Jean's face showed her surprise. "Wow... I'm not really sure what to say." She knew Rogue was confused, and she was turning to Jean for a possible explanation. She thought for a moment and offered, "Maybe, if Gambit is an empath, you retained some of his power when you touched him."  
  
"Ah thought o' that. It was th' only thing I could think of ta explain it. But mah powers don't usually work like that. Ah mean, once the person's awake ah lose their powers."  
  
Jean frowned. "Well, I'm sorry to say, but that's the only hypothesis I can come up with right now. If you want, I can do a mind scan to try and figure out what's going on with you."  
  
"Ya think it'll help?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. If I can get into that pretty little head of yours, I should be able to find out where this new ability is coming from."  
  
Rogue smiled. "All right, then."  
  
"Good. I'll get a hold of Hank and we'll do it in the med-lab so we can monitor your brain activity."  
  
Rogue made a sour face as the two rose and headed toward the mansion. "Ugh. Ah hate th' med-lab."   
  
Jean laughed and put an arm around her shoulder. "Don't let Hank hear you say that."  
  
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"Hank, are y'all ready yet?" Rogue squirmed uncomfortably on the exam table. The electro-sensors he had her place on (seemingly) every inch of her body were starting to itch. "Are all these gizmos really necessary?"  
  
Beast did not glance up from the monitor that was displaying all sorts of cryptic information about her internal doings. "Just a moment, my southern belle. I just want to have as much data as possible about what it is that you're experiencing." He raised a furry eyebrow in her direction. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue all ladies should possess?"  
  
Rogue, annoyed at the comment, muttered, "Who said ah was a lady?"  
  
Jean sat next to her. She offered Rogue a sympathetic smile. Telepathically she gibed, * Be nice, Rogue. You know how Beast feels about his 'data', and I'm not sure if those sensors can shock. *  
  
Rogue bit her lip to stifle a giggle. She suddenly had a mental image of the friendly, blue Dr. McCoy zapping his unruly patients into submission. Beast turned away from the screen smiling. "Ready whenever you are, ladies," he chimed.  
  
"Finally!" sighed Rogue. "All right, sugah... Ah'm ready fo' ya."  
  
Jean nodded and closed her eyes. A moment later they snapped open. "That's strange..." she muttered.  
  
"What's the matter, Jean?" questioned a concerned Beast.  
  
"No, nothing. I'm just having trouble getting into your mind, Rogue. Let's try it again. This time relax, and imagine you're opening a door for me to come through."  
  
"Okay, honey. Whatever you say." Rogue laid back on the table and closed her eyes.   
  
Once again Jean prepared to go inside Rogue's psyche. This time she stepped gently onto the astral plane of her mind. Rogue was standing there waiting for her. Jean took a look around. It was a dark and cluttered place, but not so distressed as she'd seen on previous visits. "I forget just how many people you've got running around in here," she said, commenting on the dozens of mumbling voices she could hear about her head.  
  
"Ah, know," sighed Rogue, "but most o' us have come ta some form of an understandin'."  
  
"I'm going to need you to help guide me as I look for Remy in here."  
  
"Sure, darlin'. Ah'll do what ah can."  
  
Jean sifted through the layers of personalities and fragmented memories until she came upon the shadow image of Gambit. He sat hugging his knees tightly, his head buried against them. "Remy?" she called softly.  
  
He raised his head slightly to regard her. After a moment his face showed that he recognized her. "Jean. Ya gotta help me, chere."  
  
Jean knelt beside him. "What is it, Remy? What's wrong?"  
  
"You can't let her find out," he pleaded. "She'll hate me, Jean. You have ta help me. I... I couldn't live wit'out her."  
  
Jean could only assume he was speaking of the terrible memories that Rogue had absorbed from him when they'd kissed. * So that's why Rogue couldn't pick out the specifics of the memories, * she realized. * This part of him has been trying to keep it from her. * Gambit was shaking a bit. Seeing him this way, this desperate, frightened her a little. She reminded herself that it wasn't really Gambit. It was only the pale residue of his mind that clung to Rogue's.   
  
As if realizing that Jean was thinking of her, Rogue appeared and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "So this is where he stays, huh?" she said softly, regarding the sad image of her Cajun prince. "Remy, sugah?" He timidly met her gaze. "I forgive ya, baby."   
  
Gambit looked up at her, but did not reply. Jean stood next to her friend. "You know it's not really him, Rogue?"   
  
"Yeah, ah know." She didn't take her eyes off him. "But it feels good ta say it."  
  
"I want to go in there and look around," she motioned to the image of Gambit, "but you'll have to help me."  
  
Rogue turned her thoughts from the broken man before her, and gave her attention back to Jean. "What d'ya need me ta do?"  
  
"Just take my hand."  
  
"Well, that's easy enough." Rogue did as Jean asked, linking the two even closer together. Jean then placed her free hand on the pseudo-Gambit. Immediately a wave of strong emotion crashed over Rogue. The remnants of Gambit still held a part of his mind. He hated himself for all those things he'd done, she realized. When he'd told her that part of him wanted to die in Antarctica, he hadn't been lying. The shadow was full of pain and regret.  
  
Gasping, both women opened their eyes. Though Jean had released her grip on the shadow, she still held tightly to Rogue's hand. She found they were both sitting on the ground. Rogue was covering her face. "Ah had no idea..." she rasped. Jean was also startled to learn that their smiling, charming friend held so much distress.   
  
Rogue straightened herself up, and composed her expression. "What did ya find, Jean?"  
  
Jean looked to the Cajun shadow, then back at Rogue's surprisingly calm demeanor. * I guess that's how you have to be when you have so many people, with so many problems, raising hell in your mind. * Jean now held more admiration for Rogue than she ever had. She was so resilient. So damn strong. Jean herself wasn't sure, that if put in a similar situation, she could maintain the same sanity Rogue had. "Well, it was hard to see through a lot of that stuff, but I'm sure that's where this empathy has come from. It seems you have retained some of his powers."  
  
"How can that be? Mah powers shouldn't work that way."  
  
"I don't know, Rogue, but somehow they're working that way now." Jean's face suddenly lit up with an idea.  
  
"What?" Rogue was puzzled by her expression.  
  
"I just realized something. Remy has the ability to somehow block his mind from any sort of psychic probe. That's why you had trouble sorting out those memories he left you with. That's why I had trouble entering your mind the first time I tried. You've retained that power as well!" Jean was practically bursting with excitement. Rogue, however, was still confused.  
  
"So what?"  
  
"So, that means it may be possible for me to use that ability and set up some walls. It means I could help block out all these other voices." Jean's voice grew soft as she took both of Rogue's hands in her own. "That means you could control your powers. You'd be able to turn the flow on and off like a faucet. It means you could touch people without absorbing them."  
  
Rogue stared back at her, mouth slightly agape. Tears were beginning to give her eyes the appearance of glass. "Ya mean...?"  
  
"Yes." Jean nodded, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Ya really think we c'n do it?" she asked, not completely believing the words.  
  
"I'm almost sure of it."  
  
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Beast reviewed the symbols on the printout, with a perplexed look on his face. Though the information was fascinating, he wasn't sure he could decipher it. Jean had found the residue of Gambit's mind. The data confirmed that Rogue had indeed retained his powers of empathy, but he couldn't figure out what they were doing now. It seemed like Jean was setting up a psychic wall of sorts, but from where? And for what purpose?   
  
Beast grumbled at the lack of scientific precision possible in these sorts of mental excursions. He made a mental note to put the task of perfecting the equipment that recorded them back at the top of his list.   
  
Just as he was becoming truly frustrated and impatient, Jean opened her eyes. Rogue sat up and immediately began pulling the tiny sensors off. "Welcome back, ladies. I trust you had a pleasant journey?" he asked optimistically.  
  
"We'll find out soon enough, darlin'," she said as she pulled off the last itchy wire.  
  
Hank looked confused, and Jean hurried to explain, "Besides discovering that Rogue retained Gambit's empathy, we also found she has some of the psychic control that shields his mind. I was able to effectively block out any thoughts or memories that aren't her own. And..." Jean paused for emphasis, "I think we may have given her the ability to neutralize her powers."  
  
"Oh my stars and garters! That is a quite unexpected, but welcome, development."  
  
Hank smiled enthusiastically at a still skeptical southerner. "But we won't know fo' sure 'til we try."  
  
His smile faded. "And how do you plan to test this hypothesis?"  
  
"On me," offered Jean. "I have a strong mind. If this doesn't work, I should be able to hold on to my psyche long enough for Rogue to let go."  
  
"That does seem to be the best route of action. Rogue, are you all right with this?" Hank knew that Rogue never wanted to hurt someone she cared about again. She was very defensive about her powers, and he wondered if she was willing to take the risk.  
  
"Yeah... it's th' only way to know if what Jean did worked. Ah jus' don't wanna hurt her."  
  
"It's well worth the risk." Jean smiled reassuringly and extended her hand towards Rogue. "Let's give it a try."  
  
Rogue took a deep breath as she pulled off a glove. She hesitated for a moment, letting her bare flesh hover just above Jean's. She let her fingertips gently graze Jean's palm. Jean felt a slight tug at her mind. "Turn it off, Rogue, you're almost there."   
  
Rogue pressed her lips together in concentration. She searched her mind for the walls Jean had helped her put in place. She pushed her mind against the barriers, struggling to fortify them against Jean's infringing presence. Suddenly it was as if something clicked. She no longer felt Jean's mind, just the touch of her skin.   
  
She opened her eyes to find that Jean was crying. "It worked, Rogue."   
  
Rogue stared at her bare hand. She was touching someone. Touching their skin! With her skin! Rogue felt the wave of joy and excitement rise up inside her. "Oh mah God! Jean!" She began to cry too. Jean stood and embraced her. She touched her hands, her face. Soon the two women were jumping up and down like schoolgirls.  
  
"Oh, Rogue, this is... it's so..." Tears matted Hank's furry face. He wrapped her in a bear hug and lifted her off the ground. Setting her down, he kissed her forehead. Rogue closed her eyes. She was enveloped in a cloud of pure happiness. Happiness, she suddenly realized, wasn't completely her own.  
  
"Jean?" Her face was suddenly masked in worry. "I can feel ya emotions when y'all touch me."  
  
"That must be your empathy," she responded thoughtfully. "You can probably turn that off too if you wanted. You know I felt your emotions too when you touched me."  
"I didn't feel anything," said Hank. "If I understand empathy properly, unless you'd blocked it, telepaths and the like should be able to pick up on your feelings when you touch, just as you pick up on theirs. Though of course the telepath is only sympathizing, not literally feeling what you do."  
  
"But another empath would," Jean added suggestively. "So... who are you going to give the good news to first?"  
  
"Actually, Ah'd prefer if y'all kept a lid on this. Jus' for awhile. It's a lot fo' me ta take in at once. And ah'd appreciate havin' a few days ta marinate in it without everybody knowin'."  
  
"Of course, my dear."  
  
"You're right, take as long as you need. Just let me know when you want to let the cat out of the bag so I can throw you a party or something."   
  
Rogue had to laugh at the giddy expression on her friends' faces. Hopefully she wouldn't have to keep them waiting too long.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. It'll Help th' Sting

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Chapter 8: "It'll Help th' Sting"  
  
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Rogue marinated for close to three weeks. During that time the only other person she told about her powers was the Professor. Xavier worked with Rogue to help her refine her new skills. She learned to take only what she wanted. The barriers Jean had helped her to install appeared completely effective. In a short period of time Rogue could feel someone's feelings or thoughts just by touching them. And most remarkably, she could change the intensity of that reception at will.  
  
The Professor believed it had been wise for Rogue to spend sometime discovering the change without the knowledge of her teammates. Something she had been dreaming of since she first stole Cody's soul had now come to pass. Yet Rogue had lived so long without human touch, and as she pondered her new abilities, she realized that the isolation had been more than merely physical.  
  
Now that the extraneous voices were gone, she noticed how over time she had become unaware of the discomfort she had endured. In the past she would visit a certain place, hear a certain name, even watch a leaf fall in a certain way, and would be lost in a remembrance that did not belong to her. She no longer had to stop and collect herself when an alien memory emerged. She no longer grabbed a pint of strawberry when she knew she liked chocolate better. However, this freedom was bittersweet. She was left alone with thoughts she knew were purely her own. And Rogue was faced with this truth: Perhaps the hardships that came with her mutation were fashioned by her own hand. Is it really so hard to get close to someone, even if you can't touch them? Rouge was beginning to realize that it was easier to push love away, than to embrace it and the vulnerability to which it was married.  
  
In this time she saw many things about herself she had not noticed before. She also saw things about Remy that had previously been clouded. They were small things really. Things that had easily gone unnoticed. He "accidentally" let her see his cards when they played gin with their housemates. She overheard him fighting with Bobby about eating the last frosted-blueberry pop-tart, and he hated them. They were her favorite. It was those seemingly inconsequential deeds he did each day, which let her see how well he knew her, and how well he loved her.   
  
One morning, after a particularly taxing session in the danger room, Rogue sat down in the common living room and tried to relax. The rest of the X-men had gone out for something to eat, but Rogue had not been in the mood. Despite her invulnerability, her muscles felt weak and sore. She shifted on the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position.  
  
"How ya feelin', mon belle?" Gambit strolled into the room, carrying two steaming mugs.  
  
"Gambit," Rogue sat up confused, "what are ya doin' here? I thought y'all went out ta lunch with ev'ryone else."  
  
"Nah, t'ought it would be much nicer to have it here wit' you." He set down the mugs, and went back into the kitchen. Rogue picked up the cup he'd placed in front of her and took a sip. It was strongly brewed black coffee, exactly how she liked it. Gambit returned from the kitchen with two plates. "You like Swiss cheese on your tuna, non?"   
  
"Non... ah mean, yes," she said, lifting the bread off the corner of her sandwich. It was just the way she liked it. Not the way Cody, or Carol Danvers, or anyone else she'd ever taken into her mind liked it. He even toasted the bread and cut the crust off. She stared at it for more than a few moments, her eyebrows knitted tightly together.  
  
Remy was about to take a bite of his sandwich, when he noticed her pained expression. "What's wrong, petite?"  
  
Rogue shot him a fierce look. "What th' hell's wrong with you, Cajun?"  
  
"Scuse me?" Gambit was completely shocked. "I was jus' tryin' t'do somet'ing nice."  
  
"And it IS nice! But why? Why d'ya always gotta do stuff fo' me?" Rogue was sobbing, and flailing her hands in wild motions as she spoke.  
  
"I...I... I don't know?" he offered. Rogue let out a huff of frustration and put both hands over her face. Remy was now completely confused. He knew that Rogue was often prone to sudden mood swings, but this was completely beyond him. "Chere, Gambit's sorry, but he don' understand."  
  
"No, Ah'm sorry, sugah, AH don't understand." Rogue looked up into his face. "Ah don't understand how ya can be so good t'me. Ya do all these sweet lil' things for me, like cuttin' th' dang crust off my bread, and ah ain't ev'n noticed 'til now!"  
  
"It's not a big t'ing, chere. I jus' made you a sandwich."  
  
"Yeah! Ya made ME a sandwich." Rogue stared at him as if she couldn't believe that he didn't understand. Remy was obviously even more lost. Sighing, Rogue expanded on the reason behind her outburst. "Somehow, ya figured out how I like mah coffee, and mah sandwich, and mah movies, and ev'rything else there is ta know about me. Ev'n what kind o' damn pop-tart ah prefer! Half th' time ah don't even know what ah like, but ya always do... and ya make sure ah always get it that way."  
  
Gambit paused and looked into her eyes. Even puffy and red from crying, they were still so beautiful they could make his heart crack in two. "I love you, Rogue."  
  
"Well, stop it!" she stood and walked to the bay windows. The lawns outside were brilliantly green against the gray of the rain.  
  
Gambit moved to stand behind her. He rested his hands gently on her shoulders, and spoke softly into her ear, "I don' t'ink I can jus' stop somet'ing like dis."  
  
"Ah don't deserve it, Remy. Ah've been pushin' ya as far away as possible since day one." She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled for the strength to say the words. "Ah've never loved ya like ya love me. Ah've hurt ya so much. Ah can't stand that ya jus' forgive me time an' again. Ah can't stand mahself 'cause of it. Ah need ya ta hate me, Remy. That's the only way ah can live with it."   
  
Remy turned her to face him. He gripped both of her shoulders and followed her face until she was forced to look at him. She saw the hurt look in his eyes, the concern for her, that ever forgiving grace that she could no longer endure. "Remy, please don't...."  
  
"Quiet, girl. You not be so tough as you act. Let's not pretend dat Remy be a saint here. You know very well de sins I've committed, jus' as well as I know yours. An' ah still love you, chere. I never stopped. Never." He brought a gloved hand to her chin to once again bring her eyes to his. "You're de best t'ing dis lousy t'ief ever had. For a long time I t'ought dat I could get your love de way I got everyt'ing else: by lying, and cheatin', and stealin'... An' when I knew dat it couldn't happen dat way, I learned dat if I wanted to be wit' someone like you, I was gonna have ta be a better man." He released his hold on her arms. "Dat's what I been tryin' ta do, ever since de day I laid eyes on ya, chere: I been tryin' to be worthy enough for ya... Now, how can you jus' ask me ta stop?"  
  
Rogue stood frozen. Her breath came short, and tears rolled unchallenged across her cheeks. All that time she had thought that they were bad for each other. She had believed that only pain and mistrust could come from their coupling. Now, in his face, she found how much they needed each other. She had made him want to be the kind of person she'd known he was all along, and in the process he'd taught her how to love someone the way he always knew she could.  
  
She fell into his arms, a quiet cry escaping her throat. He stiffened, a little bit more than surprised, seeing as he couldn't remember more than a few times she'd initiated any physical contact between them. As she wrapped one arm tightly around his waist, and tangled the other in his hair, he relaxed. He held her as close as he could, as if he wanted to melt into her. In a way he already had. He found himself completely lost in the embrace. "Love ya so much, chere," he whispered.  
  
Rogue pulled away slightly, just enough so she could look in his eyes. She'd never felt safer in her life. Ironic that she should feel this way caught up in the emotions she feared so much. He was here. The man she loved more than she ever dared dream was possible, was here in her arms. He needed her. He loved her. She leaned closer to him, and closed her eyes, unafraid...  
  
"You, STUPID Popsicle!!" Jubilee's shrill yell, and the bang of the door, caused Rogue's eyes to snap open. She pulled away from Remy's grasp just as the young girl stomped into the common room.   
  
Bobby was trailing on her heels. A fraudulent look of remorse unsuccessfully attempted to mask a satisfied grin. "Aww, Jubes, I'm sorry... I swear, I thought you LIKED your food spicy!"  
  
"Can it, Snowball! I'm not talking to you."  
  
Gambit was more than a little annoyed at the abrupt intrusion. "What did de as*hole do now, petite?"  
  
"Hey!" protested Bobby.   
  
"Shut up, Frosty," commanded Gambit. Bobby thought of a comeback that described how (blanks) like LeBeau would be out of a job without as*holes like himself, but he decided it would earn him a black-eye, so he kept it to himself.  
  
Jean walked in, frowning at the rude joke Bobby was thinking about. "Bobby put more than a little Tabasco in Jubilee's lunch," she explained.  
  
The victim sat pouting on one of the couches. "I offered you a glass of water!" insisted Bobby.  
  
"Yeah! That was frozen solid!" she spat back. "And then all the damn waiters came over and started singing 'Happy Birthday', and Wolvie and Betsy are apologizing for forgetting, and I'm trying to tell them it's not my birthday, but my mouth's on fire and I can't even talk!" Jubilee began crying, and whined, "I never should have come back here! I swear this is the last visit I ever make! I've never been that embarrassed, Bobby!" She put in a final, dramatic sob, and added, "And my tongue STILL hurts!"  
  
Bobby merely shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's easy to solve. Just hold still, Firecracker. I'll cool you off."  
  
"Noooo!!" shrieked Jubilee.  
  
"Dat's it, Bobby!" yelled Gambit over Jubilee's wailing. "I suggest you start running. Now!"  
  
Not needing further prompting, the offending Iceman took off like a lightening bolt with Gambit not far behind. Wolverine burst into the room shortly after. Apparently he'd finally realized what had happened at the restaurant. He took one look at the sobbing girl and turned to Rogue. "Which way?" he growled. Rogue pointed in the direction the two men had fled. "You better hope ol' Gumbo kills ya before I find ya, Cube!" he roared, as he tore off down the hall.  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes at Jean, who gave her a knowing look. "Come on, sugah," she sighed, placing a hand on Jubilee's hair. "We'll get ya some milk an' bread from th' ki'chen. It'll help th' sting."  
  
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"Logan?"  
  
"Yeah, darlin'?" he grumbled hungrily against her neck.  
  
"Perhaps this is not the best of locations for... well..."  
  
"Meybe not." He tightened his arm around the small of her back. She felt the slight abrasion of his stubble as his mouth trailed across her face and back to her lips.  
  
"Logan...I'm serious."   
  
"Mmmhmm," he agreed, making no attempt to slow his pace. With his free hand he unzipped the back of her dress, and ran his fingertips down her now bare spine. She shuddered slightly under his touch. "Only problem is I don't think I have much control here, darlin'. So..." He lifted her easily up onto the counter, "if you don't want me t'do this... you're gonna hav'ta stop me."  
  
"But a few of the others are still awake."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And what if one of them..." she had to pause as she drew a quick breath, "what if they saw us?"  
  
"So?"  
  
"So I'd like to keep our private business, from becoming public gossip."  
  
"Then why don't you jus' tell me ta stop?" He kissed her before she had time to respond. Her mouth was soft and eager. * She's giving in,* he smiled to himself.  
  
"Logan!?" gasped Rogue, as she walked into the kitchen. "Storm?"  
  
They both jumped at the sound of her voice. Ororo quickly zipped up the back of her dress. The three were awkwardly silent for what seemed like an eternity. Rogue stood frozen, she was sure she'd stopped blinking. Ororo could only stare down at her feet. "Evenin', Rogue," Wolverine finally offered.  
  
"Um..." Rogue struggled for something to say. "Y'all have a good time at the concert?"  
  
Storm paused for a moment and eventually began to laugh. It was silent at first. Her body only shook, but at last the musical sound of her voice was audible. The uneasiness was broken, and soon Rogue and Logan couldn't help but smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Rogue, would it be too much to ask you to keep this between us three for now?"  
  
"Keep what 'tween us? I didn't see nothin'," she cooed in that famous syrupy voice. She looked back over her shoulder as she left the room. "G'night y'all."  
  
When she'd left, Storm turned to a slightly red Logan. "I told you so," she smiled.  
  
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Author's Note: Gotta love a Canadian.   
  
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	9. Push and Pull

Rogue hurried away from the kitchen. As she passed by a mirror, she noticed a fairly stupid grin was plastered across her face. So it was Ororo and Logan now? She started to remember little clues. Barely perceptible moments had past between the lovers that might have let her know what was going on. She couldn't blame them for wanting to keep the relationship private. The X-Men were worse than a southern quilting circle when it came to gossip. She even found herself under the microscope when she had become involved with Remy.  
  
It seemed to her that every resident of the Xavier Institute had something to say behind her back about her relationship with Remy. She'd even found out that while she was involved with Joseph there had been a bet about how long it would take her to go running back to the Cajun. Bobby had thought she would leave Joseph on his ass within the month. Kitty thought that Gambit would throw down with Joe before Rogue had the chance. And Betsy insisted that Rogue would simply have a nervous breakdown and leave them both. * Ah wonder who won th' pool? * she thought as she made her way to the roof. * In a way ah s'pose they were all right. *  
  
Yeah, their relationship was dysfunctional. Rogue knew this. That didn't make it okay for everyone else to pass their judgements. Who were they to trivialize? Who were they to turn her life into one big joke? Or worse, a goddamn bet. Rogue's hand became a fist as her anger grew, but thinking better, she relaxed. This wasn't about everyone else. It only had to do with her and Remy. Rogue realized that maybe she'd lost sight of that. It was possible that she'd let everyone else's opinions cloud what she truly felt. In time she had decided that it would never work, and that she needed to get over him.  
  
Settling herself on the roof, Rogue began to think about what had happened earlier in the day. She had been determined to finally cut him loose, and instead had become closer still. She didn't really want to let him go. She was just frightened. Remy's words rung in her ears: "You not be so tough as you act." Was she really so transparent? Pathetic really, how she ran from the best thing she had. She had to laugh. He'd called her out. He'd laid his heart at her feet, just to give her the opportunity to change her mind. And Rogue had changed her mind. For the first time since she'd committed herself to the X-Men, she decided to stop running.   
  
She floated silently around the roof until she came to Gambit's window. Normally he would have been awakened by the sound of her lifting it open, even though she did so as quietly as possible. But since Hank had prescribed him a sedative to help him sleep without waking every telepath in the house, he didn't move a muscle. She moved across the room to his bed, not touching the floor.   
  
He stirred slightly as she settled her weight on the corner of the bed. In his sleep he looked younger. His face was soft and relaxed, not showing the strain of all those hard years. He was so damn beautiful. Rogue marveled that such a man could love her so completely as he did. She unzipped the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing and set it on the floor. Beneath it she wore only a thin-strapped tank top, revealing her neck and shoulders. Next she pulled of her gloves and tossed them aside. * Remy, * She placed a finger on his lips and whispered through her mind. * wake up, sugah. *  
  
Remy opened his eyes groggily. "Rogue? Dat you, chere?" He set himself up onto his elbows. "What are y'doing here? What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothin's wrong... jus' wanted ta talk t'ya."  
  
Remy sat up fully, shaking off the dopey feeling of the sedative. As the sheets slid off of him, Rogue saw he was completely bare from the waist up. Instantly she felt a cloud of butterflies boil up in her stomach. "If you came t'hear me tell you I hate you, Remy's afraid he's gonna have to disappoint." He flashed that familiar smile that set her at ease.  
  
She laughed quietly and whispered, "No, swamp rat, that ain't why ah came." She took a deep breath, and released in rapid succession, "Ah wanted ta tell ya that ah'm sorry for always pushin' ya away. An' ah wanted ta thank ya for being so annoyingly persistent. An' ah wanted ta tell ya that ah ain't gonna run anymore."   
  
Remy was silent for a moment as he absorbed the barrage of powerful confessions. "Dat's great, really chere, but do you mind if I ask where all dis comes from?" Remy suddenly noticed the amount of bare flesh she was showing. "Rogue, why...?" he began to ask, but she stopped him by bringing her fingers to his lips. He reflexively shied away from her touch, but nothing happened when her skin met his.  
  
"Ah love you, Remy." The sincerity of her words, and the depth of her eyes, almost made him forget that it was unnatural for her to be touching him. "Ah've learned ta control mah powers."  
  
"I see," he gulped. "How? When?... What!?"  
  
Rogue sought to quickly relieve his confusion. "About three weeks ago. Found out that I retained some of th' powers ah got from ya when we touched. Jean helped me ta use your psi-walls ta manage mah absorption ability. Ah'm sorry ah couldn't tell ya sooner, but ah needed some time. Needed ta figure out what this means fo' me, and for us."  
  
"For us?" he asked timidly, afraid the response might not be what he wanted to hear. Rogue raised her hand to his face again. This time she ran her fingertips from his hairline to his chin, her palm hovering over his skin. She allowed his emotions to flow through her flesh into her mind. Flooded with anticipation, fear of rejection, guilt, acceptance, forgiveness, and over all, love; Rogue felt a warm but sharp ache in her chest. Finally she could understand him. She felt the confirmation of all the strength, weakness, and tenderness she had subconsciencly always expected to find in him. Remy closed his eyes and exhaled, apparently feeling her emotions as well. "What was dat, chere?" he breathed.   
  
"Ah got your empathy too, Remy. I can see everythin' you're thinkin' and feelin', and since you're an empath it works th' other way 'round too."  
  
"Everyt'ing I jus' felt: dat came from you?" She nodded. "I love you too, Rogue."  
  
"Ah know."  
  
"Y'need t'know somet'ing, chere. Dat femme, I didn't sleep wit her. I couldn't. She jus' wasn't you."  
  
Rogue smiled. "Ah know that too. Wolvie told me. Said he didn't smell it on ya."  
  
"Ain't dere no privacy in dis house?"  
  
"No. An' in this case ah'd say y'all are lucky there isn't."  
  
Gambit laughed and noticed that she watched his mouth as he did. Could she really be here? Could all this really be true? He'd felt that she loved him, that she was unafraid, when she touched him moments before. "Have ya really forgiven me, chere?"  
  
She smiled warmly. "No, baby. Ah forgave ya a long time ago. Ah think ah just forgave mahself." She leaned toward him and placed a delicate hand on his jaw. Her thumb brushed gently over his lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly to one side.  
  
"Rogue?" He stopped her. "You sure you're ready fo' dis?"  
  
She spoke through the link between their flesh, echoing the words he'd said in what seemed like another lifetime, * No secrets, no shame... So that we can get past this an' go on from here. Th' way ah want us to... together... as one. Choice is yours. *  
  
He touched her then, tangled a hand in the long hair at the back of her head. He kissed her, very softly, absorbing her emotions with each pass of their lips. She told him over and over again that she loved him. It was so intense a presence that he wasn't sure where her thoughts ended and his began. His kiss grew with the passion that he had been forced to hide.   
  
She let her hands travel the length of his body. She slowly explored the flesh that she had loved for so long, but had never known. The pace was fine, as far as Remy was concerned. Each touch contained a wave of feeling. The most beautiful, warm emotions he'd ever felt. If they moved any faster, he might lose his mind with the intensity. God, he loved her. How many times had he thought about this? How many times he pictured the feel of her skin, the warmth of her body? He could never have imagined this. It was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. Belle had been his best friend before they even thought of themselves as a couple. And he could say in truth that when he'd been with her they'd 'made love'. But what he was feeling, with Rogue in his arms, this was something else entirely.  
  
Rogue pulled her shirt over her head. Her skin prickled with goose bumps as her hair fell back down around her shoulders. Gambit paused, reeling a bit from the vision before him. "In all my life," he whispered as unshed tears cracked his voice, "I swear, I've never seen anyt'ing as beautiful as you." Rogue quickly wrapped him in her arms and found his mouth.   
  
He sent reassurance and trust through their link, constantly making sure she was all right. They made love, tenderly, and without spoken words. Each understood how the other needed to be touched, how the other wanted to be held. The feelings of warmth and ecstasy grew slowly inside her. Gradually it spread through her limbs, out of her fingers, head, and toes. Its roots held tightly at her very soul.  
  
He held her tightly for several moments afterward, still inside her, just letting everything he was feeling pass into her mind. He rolled onto his side and she followed so they could face each other. "Remy, can we just stay like this? Always?" Her watercolor eyes looked even more brilliant through her tears of joy and wonder.  
  
"You mean jus' stay here in bed forever?"  
  
"Ya'd stop time for me, Cajun?"  
  
"Course, chere. Anyt'ing you want."  
  
"Ah jus' want you."  
  
"All ready got dat... Always did... Always will."  
  
She smiled contently. In one slow, fluid motion, she ran her fingertips along the side of his face, down his neck and arm, to his hand. "Are ya very tired?"  
  
"Not so much. Kinda feelin' too excited ta sleep."  
  
She giggled. He did look like a kid at Christmas, she thought. "Now how does it go? Jut ahme?"   
  
He made a very sour face at her poor attempt at French. "What was dat s'posed to be?"  
  
"Hey!" she protested, punching him in the arm.  
  
"Oww!"  
  
"God, ah'm sorry! Did that really hurt?"  
  
"No," he laughed.  
  
"Damn it, Remy!" she hit him again, this time she made sure it hurt a little. "Swamp rat."  
  
"River rat." He reached out for her, and held her then, needing to touch as much of her skin as possible. "Je t'aime, Rogue," he whispered, "Dat's how you say it... Je t'aime, mon petite chere: I love you so much it hurts."  
  
"Where does it hurt?" He placed her hand over his chest. "Let's nevah hurt that part o' us again."  
  
"I promise, chere." She rested her head on his chest, and brought her arm across his body. Waves of auburn and white hair tumble around him, softly falling against his neck and stomach. He closed his eyes and let unshed tears shiver between his eyelashes. When he eventually fell asleep the nightmare was gone. In its place was only the gentle heave of her chest as she slept, and the subtle perfume of her hair.  
  
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Author's note: No, this is not the end. I know that I said it would be nine chapters, but it turns out it's longer. So y'all still have a few more dramas to endure. Hope this last one wasn't too heavy a sprinklin' o' cheese. I just get so hopelessly romantic sometimes. *sigh* That's all for now. See you in chapter 10! ~ Vegas  
  
  
  
  
  



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